What She Needed
by Ozwin
Summary: It was reckless. It was stupid. Selfish, even. But to be honest, it was exactly what she needed. Bruce/Natasha.


It was reckless. It was stupid. Selfish, even.

Natasha couldn't remember how it started. There were far too many instances with them together that she could no longer remember the first encounter. She didn't know when the silent understanding between them first revealed, and how it suddenly clicked. The past few months have been a blur that she couldn't even think straight about the memories she had been through during the time.

She couldn't remember the first time they had slipped into the same room - whether it was his or hers - and proceeded to lock their lips together the first moment they faced each other. It seemed so desperate and unreasonable, and none of them could think of the reason they would do such things.

There were always moans, grunts, and whispering of names, and it would always go dangerously farther than just a healthy meet. But she didn't complain, and neither did he. It was as if they were each other's drug, and the thought of quenching that...that _desire _was so mouthwatering that they couldn't help but go farther than the limits.

Natasha had a theory.

Perhaps it was because they both knew how it felt to be in the lower hand, while the others would always assume that you were okay with it. They both knew how it felt being controlled by someone - or some_thing_ - for various reasons, and become forced to hide their fears when facing others. She had always been struggling and squirming over SHIELD's grasps, while he was under the_ other_ guy's. When she had been nearly killed by the other guy that one incident in the hellicarrier, she had tried to hide how afraid she really was, and barely succeeded. And whenever he would look at the brown eyes of the Hulk's alter ego, she could also see the pain and fear he felt whenever he was overcome.

"Natasha," Bruce would mutter once in a while. It was always like that. It was never Nat, or Tasha, or anything else. It was as if he was still trying to be distant from her, so that he wouldn't be hurt if he would hurt _her _in the end.

She loved the sound of her name slipping from his tongue, though. It was as if her name was so special and beautiful to him. His voice itself was addicting to her, and the moans and whispers he would make drove her mad all the time.

At some times, it would be extremely rough and passionate. He would push her mercilessly against the wall, sometimes breaking objects on a nearby table. She would feel him creating sucking marks and bites all over her body. There would be screams, shoves, and loud panting concealed within the walls of the room.

But other times, it would be so tender and sweet. Instead of fucking her senseless, he would just take it slow at first, giving gentle kisses on her full lips, being a gentleman. There would be a significant number of caresses, too.

No matter what mood they were in, it would always be amazingly perfect.

Usually, they would get so desperate and shed off clothes almost immediately. After the endless encounters they had with one another, it was like they memorized each other's bodies already, and would take less time to caress each and every inch of the other. If rough, Banner would always decide to position her against a wall, sometimes what they call 'doggy-style' on the mattress, or, if they were extremely desperate for each other, on the floor itself. But when he decides to take it slow, he would make love to her on the bed, or even under the covers.

He would thrust into her, and her nails would dig deep into his tanned back, a moan escaping from between both of their lips. There was no particular pattern; just continue, continue, and continue. It would suddenly become ultimately erratic, then shift into a slow and easy pattern. Once in a while, he would touch her breasts, and lock his panting lips onto hers, his tongue delving deep inside her. She would wrap her arms around his neck, getting addicted to the kiss.

And it would always end well.

He was the only one who could ever make her mind blank when she reached the tip of the iceberg, making her too focused on relishing the pleasure he had given her to think about anything else. She didn't know if she had the same effect to him, but she must be at least close to it, because he would close his eyes and make a deep voiced groan, and he would grip her hips so tightly that sometimes it would bruise.

When the pleasure faded, and her thoughts were back, she would always feel the same. Satisfied. Complete. And she knew he felt that too.

She often wondered whether this was right. She wondered whether she should face Bruce one day and break to him that she wanted to take this to a more serious intimate relationship.

But she could never bring herself to do it. She didn't want to break this _thing _they had together just because she wanted something more. They were in between the two threads of friendship and romance, and she didn't want to change that.

Instead, she just continued to savor these perfect encounters they had with one another. She could live in those moments forever, if she were to be completely honest. With him, she felt like the whole world disappeared, and they were in their own little planet together. She would let go of the past, her childhood, everything. He would just take her in his arms and make her feel loved. He knew this was what she needed.

They were both alone. They were both battle scarred. And these little moments they had with one another were the only things that kept them sane and intact.

Whenever one of them would stand up to leave, the other would always plead him or her to stay.

"Natasha," Bruce would say, if it was her who would be leaving. "Just one night. For me."

Or, if it were the other way around, Natasha would whisper, "Stay. Bruce, please."

And the other would always give in. A useless resistance, as you would call it.

And as the moon hovered outside the window, they would be locked to one another, a mess of limbs tangled together. It was like they wanted to get closer and closer, relishing the presence of the other. It was addicting. To Bruce, Natasha always smelled like vanilla, while to Natasha, he smelled of books.

And they both loved it.

It was reckless. It was stupid. Selfish, even.

But to be honest, it was exactly what she needed.

~FIN~

A/N: So? How was it? This is my OTP, so I really, _really _tried my best to make it perfect. Drop by to make a review! :)


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